


I Don't Dance... right?

by Anonymous



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Aggression, Anal Sex, Anger, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Blanket Permission, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fantasizing, Hand Jobs, Hatred, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Panic Attacks, Pegging, Porn with Feelings, Self-Hatred, Sex, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27211057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Leon Kuwata is a straight, very heterosexual man... right? He'd liked girls and only girls since he was a kid. So why the hell was he thinking about his ass on top of a man?
Relationships: Hagakure Yasuhiro/Kuwata Leon, Kuwata Leon & Maizono Sayaka, Kuwata Leon/Celestia Ludenberg
Comments: 3
Kudos: 75
Collections: Anonymous





	I Don't Dance... right?

**Author's Note:**

> So I may or may not have written aggressively ventish fanfiction and titled it after a High School Musical song. And that turned out to be this! 
> 
> Leon is 20 and Hiro is 23, they're not that different in age in canon either.

Leon felt his lower half stir quietly as Yasuhiro walked away from the TV. They'd just finished a particularly... explicit scene in the movie, and well, Kuwata thought it was hot. The girl was really catching his eye, and he bit his lip. 

Apparently this was some cheesy romance film that the fortune teller had picked up from the store. The baseball player had learned long ago not to ask questions about whether it affected his roommate's debt. But alas, that wasn't what he cared about right now. What he cared about was getting the pole between his legs to feel good.

He tugged his pants down and his boxer briefs along with them. He had a few minutes, Hagakure had specifically told the rockstar that. He could roll one out and clean it up in time. Leon sighed as he wrapped a fist around his dong.

His mind began to wander, and he slowly rubbed at his member. Little flashes darted across his mind's eye. Of superstars and warrior women, lying across the floor with their lips slightly parted and eyes half lidded. Of swimmers, glistening with sweat and water after practice.

The thoughts got more vivid. 

A blonde haired girl bent over before him, ass in the air. There was no underwear beneath a tiny red skirt. She was soaking wet and ripe for the taking. His strokes got a bit faster.

Toned arms pinned him down. Short black hair bobbed forward as she thrusted a thick strap into his ass. Her small breasts jiggled against her abs with each movement. His strokes got a bit faster. 

Dark brown dreads were spread around the face like a halo. Leon bounced on their member and watched golden eyes roll up. Their mouth gaped open as their hips started to buck forward. Low groans escaped the both of them. 

His hands slid to a stop as he realised what he was thinking about. That wasn't a girl he was bouncing on. 

He'd thought about getting fucked by a girl's strap ons before. It was hot to be the one being penetrated. There wasn't a single problem with wanting to get railed by a girl instead of the other way around, Makoto had assured him.

But why did his thoughts stray to Hiro, and not that girl from the movie? Why wasn't Sayaka giving him a handjob, or Celeste snickering at his desperate whines? Why was his mind, instead, picturing the clairvoyant moaning beneath him? Why was he riding the fortune teller's cock with furver? Leon's face contorted into that of disgust and he swatted his own hand from his rock hard cock.

He sat there and stared at his hands. His filthy, filthy hands. Why couldn't he have been a normal, baseball playing prodigy? The Ultimate Baseball Star who was happy with a famous pop star girlfriend. The man with a clean face and buzzcut. Then why did he turn out like this?

He felt himself begin to shake. As he glared at his hands, he couldn't help but think of when Hagakure passed him blunts, and their hands gently grazed against each other every time without fail. Kuwata absolutely didn't feel good at that. He never felt anything at all. He felt like Hiro did in that moment, he was definitely thinking about funny things like Bigfoot's sexcapades or the Loch Ness Taxes.

Leon pulled at his hair. That was the first step, right? To turn back into a normal fucking baseball player instead of this... this thing he'd become. Kuwata sobbed as the tongue piercing in his mouth pressed against the top of his mouth. 

The punk became hyper-aware of the metal in his ears. The oversized safety pin jabbed against his jaw. His goatee rubbed at his collarbone, little bead cold as he screamed and tore at it. And then, the rotating fan finally reached him, and the shudder of air reminded him of the stupid urge that started this.

The lust that had been coarsing through his core was long gone now. Now he looked at the soft phallus with disdain. His stupid, stupid cock was still out. He wanted to get battered, to suffer for his sins. Like the stupid goddamn f–

"Leon, ya need help?" A disgustingly familiar voice sounded from the bathroom door. The stubble, the frazzled dreadlocks, the jacket draped over his shoulders. 

Dammit, the former baseball star couldn't look at Hiro now... 'Not after what I've done.' he thought to himself as he forcefully pulled up his boxers and black pants. A large and delicate hand placed on his shoulder.

Leon screamed and backed himself into the corner of the bed, "DON'T FUCKING LOOK AT ME! I'M A FUCKING PANSY!" The fortune teller stared back at the broken man on his bed. There was some kind of pained expression on his face. Was it pity? Compassion? Empathy?

"I-I-I said to no-not look at me, Hagakure!" The shorter of the two men shouted, hands quivering as they hugged his knees. Hiro frowned. He went to a box in the other corner.

What the hell was he doing? He looked at Leon, pants down and screaming, and... helped him? That made no fucking sense. Kuwata himself didn't know what the hell happened. Obviously Yasuhiro didn't know what he was doing. 

The clairvoyant lifted a thick blanket up. It was dark, with light blue and green lines streaming from a printed circle in the middle. It was honestly kind of pretty, the shuddering man admitted to himself. Hagakure beckoned Kuwata closer, and Leon curled in on himself even more. The fortune teller sighed.

Yasuhiro held the massive blanket in front of Leon, as the latter shook like a leaf. "Hey, buddy," Hiro crooned, "I just want to put this around your shoulders. Is that okay?" The redhead hesitantly scooted forward and gave the tiniest of nods.

Hagakure slowly placed the blanket around the pale man's shoulders. He didn't try anything else. No heated, lingering brushes against his slowly drooping red spikes. No grabbing his burning face. He'd never had someone treat him so delicately.

The blanket was.. strange. It was heavy, but not really in a bad way. It was kind of like a hug. It was warm, and comfortable. Why didn't everyone have one of these? He nestled himself into it.

Part of Leon was happy to let himself revel in the scent. That overly familiar sage and lavender enveloped him. That was the pleasant part of being in Hiro's room. That relaxing smell, and the wonderful company that Hagakure was.

Speaking of Hiro... that was the other part, wasn't it? The part of hanging out with Hiro he didn't like. The part he wanted to beat himself for.

That horrible part of him that forced his heart to beat quicker whenever the clairvoyant leaned so close. It was that evil, evil part of him that made him hard whenever Hagakure and him exercised together. That horrible part that made him groan when him and Hiro, drunk off their asses, made out on a dare. It was the part that made him think of Hiro when he was tugging at himself earlier.

Why didn't Hagakure laugh at the redhead when he walked out of the bathroom to find Leon screaming with his dick out? Why wasn't Kuwata kicked out for being a dirty fucking loser? Wasn't the fortune teller disgusted walking in on something like that?

He looked up at Yasuhiro. "Aren't you mad at me?" The flaming haired man. He started pulling the weighted blanket further around himself. The punk wasn't very good at eye contact to begin with, and the situation wasn't making it easier. 

"Wait what? Of course not bro!" Hagakure gave him a bewildered look, "You were having a panic attack! I can't just leave you alone!" He yelled, looking like he'd just been insulted. Kuwata's bright red brows furrowed.

Leon fiddled with the cuffs of his jacket and looked up at him again. "Dude, I was freaking out and yelling with my fuckin' cock out. How is that *not* weird to you?" The vocalist stared at him indignantly. Why was he being so fucking weird?

"Leon, you can't control when you have panic attacks! I'm gonna help someone when they're scared and stressed out, dick out or not." Hiro insisted sternly.

He scratched his head, sighed, and placed his hands on top of Leon's before continuing."Look, man, I dunno what happened. I'll never know what scary shit you were thinking about." He stated, a hint of disappointment in his tone. "But just know that there's nothing to be ashamed of."

"But I was in *your* roo-" Hiro put a finger to his lips and shushed him. 

"I couldn't care less. Just means your comfy in here!" The older man laughed, "As long as you clean up your own mess, we're fine. We're bros, Leon." He grinned at the baseball star.

The rockstar thought it'd be uncomfortable. He expected the rage to wash over him from the calm ocean that was Hagakure... but it didn't. Why not? 

Leon mumbled to himself, his brows furrowing as he glanced up to the other man, "I don't get it." It was true. It was the most blunt way he could say it. And he didn't know how to explain it any better.

The fortune teller's lips pursed. He looked to Kuwata with pity. As he gestured beside the redhead, Leon accepted shakily with a nod. Hiro sat beside him.

"Look, bro. I think I get what happened." He whispered, hands at his sides as he let out a sigh. "I've done this whole song and dance before. A few times, actually, it took me a while to find myself." He laughed insincerely.

Leon stared at him for a second. What the hell was Hiro on about? What song and dance? Had Hagakure also thought about jacking off to guys? Had Hiro known that feeling of utter distress and panic at the idea? 

Surely not, the rockstar figured. The fiery haired man was just the odd one out. It wasn't like he was gay... right? That was weird, and wrong, and so not him. He was just a straight dude. A straight dude with a crush on a girl. He'd had girlfriends before, after all. He was a very straight guy who just happened to be a bit... 

There it was again. That burning fire of hatred for himself. The ember that made him scream and want to smash himself into a million pieces. That flare that resented every thought he was having of Hiro.

It was the inferno that wanted to force his feelings into ashes. To destroy his desire to tenderly kiss Yasuhiro during a smoke sesh. The blaze that made him try to rip his beard apart at a fleeting thought. The flame that screamed at him angrily for his warped, disgusting desires. He began to pant again.

This was wrong. All of it was wrong. Hiro was treating him nicely for being a fucking weirdo. The piercings in his ears were comforting and familiar. The weighted blanket embraced him kindly.

He deserved so much worse. So much worse for his gross, gross emotions. For his stupid, stupid desires, he needed to be told how wrong he was. 

Hiro placed a light hand on his shoulder and golden eyes met sapphire ones. "Hey, it's okay. Just give yourself time. Don't beat yourself up. Let yourself feel and then we can talk, m'kay man?" He muttered. Fresh tears clouded his oceanic eyes.

The tears slowly extinguished the flame. They overflowed from his face and darkened his black skinny jeans. Yasuhiro didn't scold him. He just rubbed circles into his back. A small smile graced the clairvoyant's face. The former baseball player let out a shuddering breath he didn't notice he was holding. 

"O-Okay." Kuwata sobbed, wrapping his arms around Hagakure midsection. He sniffled and cried into Yasuhiro's chest, letting the relief stream down his face.

It was refreshing. To not shut up and bottle his feelings. Maybe Hiro had a point. Maybe he should be more honest. Maybe he didn't deserve to die for his feelings.

**Author's Note:**

> I might make a Hagakureon series because there isn't enough content for the two. I'll add this to the series if I ever make it.
> 
> I would really appreciate comments. This is one of my first fics ever, and I want to know if what did was good or bad.


End file.
